When To Say Goodbye
by three miles away
Summary: Sometimes saying goodbye is the hardest part. But what do you do when you never got that chance? Written in Memory of those lost in the 9/11 attacks in New York. Not slash. Pure friendship.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Common Law.**

**A/N: Written in memory of the September 11th 2001 attacks in New York.**

**(Not really important, but make note: Travis and Wes were still partners for seven years pryer to these events. Not meant to be read as AU.) Not Slash.**

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When To Say Goodbye

Its been eleven years.

Oh, how times have changed. People learned to move on on the outside, but deep down, someone out there is still grieving. They grieve for the heroes and victims who perished and for the memories lost. They still tear up at the thought of a loved one and never forget to visit their grave on their birthday.

Wesley Mitchell is no different.

Here he is, standing on a balcony in a New York hotel with a sealed envelope of papers in his hands. He made the trip from LA to NYC alone, which became the norm years ago. Alex didn't seem to understand why he put himself through the pain year after year, she always said it was better to forget and move on with his life. But he couldn't do that.

Sure, eleven years have passed, but Wes remembers that day like it just happened. He remembers the smallest details of that day because they're forever burned into his memory.

_Eleven Years Ago_

"Ah, New York." Travis Marks said getting out of the cab with his bag in hand. "Its so much different than LA."

"What'd you expect?" Wesley Mitchell said after he paid the driver and fixed the computer bag that was slung over his shoulder.

"Nothin' much. Just though I'd point that out."

Wes groaned and began walking towards their destination. The LAPD had been invited to some kind of Hostage Negotiation Conference at one of the World Trade Centers and Captain Sutton could only send two detectives.

He chose his best.

"Can you believe this, man?" Travis said as he and his partner made their way to the appropriate building in the heart of the city. "Round trip to New York for two days and all we have to do it go to a conference for a couple hours."

"I think it'll be more than a couple hours, Travis." Wes replied as they walked inside. Stepping into the lobby, the two men went straight for the elevator and took it to the 55th floor per directions of the people hosting the event.

"Its more than a regular conference and unlike the bomb defusing conference, this one is more hands on. We'll be going up against other Police Departments best detectives and we'll have to talk them down in exercises as we would out in the field.

"They've brought in volunteers from the street, so this isn't a game."

Travis looked over to his partner just as the elevator chimed and the doors slid open saying, "You sure do know how to kill the mood."

"And another thing," Wes said completely ignoring the statement Travis said. "No hooking up with the speaker. We have a job to do and the Captain trusted us to do it right."

Just then a man in his early 50s walked up to the detectives and spoke saying, "Ah, the detectives from LA I presume." he smiled and shook their hands. "I'm Gary Lloyd, speaker and host of this weekends events. Right this way." he then ushered them towards a table where their names were set out on name plates along with name tags, pens, paper, notepads and other nicknacks.

Travis leaned over and said to Wes as they took their seats. "I don't think you'll have to worry about that." Wes laughed and pinned his name tag neatly on his dress shirt before Travis did the same.

More detectives from across the country began to file in the fairly large room, sitting at the tables with their and departments names on them. After 20 minutes, the chatter died down and Mr. Lloyd stepped up the the podium to begin his speech.

It seemed like hours had passed before the room was let out for a break. The smell of a full course meal made up of ribs, red potatoes, green beans, and mac and cheese filled the air around the people. Travis was ready to dive in the screams of a few people filled the room. Murmurs sounded across the area as people pointed out the floor to ceiling window.

Wes and Travis made their way over to the growing group of people and the sight of an airliner filled their vision. The plane was getting closer and closer with each passing second and people frantically began to rush towards the door on the opposite side of the room.

The roaring sound of the engine was now on top of them as the front of the plan crashed into the building. Glass shattered around them and tiles from above fell to the floor with a crack.

Travis ducked and covered his head as part of a ceiling caved in, sending dust every where in the process. He helped a fallen man to his feet before ushering him along.

Screams and cries was all that they heard as Wes and Travis pushed people towards the staircase. They were in the back of the group when cries for help reached their ears. Looking at each other was hard as dust and thick smoke rose into the air but working with the other over the past seven years, neither had to say a word as both men raced back into the room without a second though.

Fires were already raging in the room, licking at the walls and tables that were turned over on the floor. Coughing, Travis and Wes tucked their noses down in their shirts in an attempt to filter some air to breathe.

"Is there anybody in here?" Wes called out.

"Someone please help me!" came a strangled reply. The two remaining detectives made their way across abandoned items that were scattered on the floor.

"Keep talking, we're coming!" Travis yelled. Adrenalin was pumping hard through his veins as he and Wes came closer and closer to were the voice was coming from.

"I can't get out! Please get me out!"

Wes and Travis began to move fallen debris from around a cluttered area, where underneath a woman lay on her side. It was still very smokey in the room, but the light from a nearby window allowed the men to take in the situation. The woman's leg was trapped by a fallen beam and her panicked breathing was growing quicker.

"Hey, we're gonna get you out. Alright?" Travis said in a calming voice. The woman nodded frantically and Wes went to remove the beam. He bent his knees and took a deep breath before trying to pick up the object, but it wouldn't move.

"Travis, I need you!" he said through clinched teeth. His partner was by his side in a second and both men used all the strength that was left in their bodies to lift the metal beam.

"Go, go, go," said Detective Marks to the woman. Not wasting another minute that she might not see, the woman pulled herself along the floor by her arms until she was out of the way and the two men slowly lowered the beam to the ground.

Making their way to the lady, Wes asked quickly, "Can you walk?"

She nodded and with held she stood to her feet before her ankle gives out but Wes catches her before she hits the floor. Removing his tie, Mitchell carefully wrapped her injury before helping her back to her feet.

"Guys, we need to move." Travis said suddenly. The trio then made their way to the stairs before descending the flights. Shoes lay scattered on the steps as they made made their way down. Lights flickered and flashed, small sparks falling to the floor.

They had walked for what had to have been hours, when it was only a few minutes, down an unknown number of stairs when the woman cried out in pain and collapsed to the floor.

"I can't do it, I can't do it," the woman cried over and over. Wes wiped his hand over his face and tried to calm the woman down.

"You can do it." he said. "We're getting closer."

"I can't, I can't." she was gasping for air and tears raced down her ash covered face.

"What's you name?" Travis asked.

"T-T-Taylor," was the reply.

"Alright, Taylor. I need you to calm down for me, okay?" he said. Travis then took off his top shirt, only leaving a short sleeve tee and got down on his knees. "I'm going to wrap this around your mouth and nose. It'll help you breathe easier,"

"No, no. I can't go- I can't." Taylor protested.

"Yes you can, Taylor." Wes spoke up say, "You can do this and we're going to help you get out of here."

Taylor was still shaking but allowed Travis to tie his shirt around her nose and mouth. "Alright," Wes said looking around. A number on the wall to his right caught his attention and he continued. "We're on the tenth floor. Only a few more flights to go," Standing to his feet, Wes picked Taylor up in his arms and started down the stairs again, Travis right on his heels.

_Present_

What happened after that, Wes wasn't sure. Therapists have said that part of his brain is choosing to forget because the events are tragic and took a deep toll on him. It made sense, but part of him wishes so hard, everyday, that he would remember. He doesn't care how bad it would be, because being left in the dark all these years created a void inside.

A void of not really knowing how his best friend and partner and brother died.

Looking down at the sealed letter addressed to "Travis Marks" in his hands, Wes sighed. The first therapist he went to after the attacks suggested that Wes write a letter to his fallen friend. That was eleven years ago. Eleven years of sitting on his nightstand, eleven years of resting in the sealed envelope the day finally came. Removing a zippo from his pocket, Wes lit the corner of the letter and watched with sad eyes as it burned.

That was when Wesley Mitchell finally said goodbye.

**A/N: So its been 11 years since the attacks in NYC. Kinda hard to believe, right? I just wanted to write this in memory of those lost because I think it is very important to keep that memory alive. I live in Oklahoma and if you don't know much about the state, you should know that we have dealt with tragedy ourselves.**

**Back in 1995, a bomb went off in downtown OKC. Sure I was a kid back then, only a couple years old really, but over the years, I've learned more about that day and how it brought this city closer together. I thought the same thing when I wrote my other Common Law one-shot "Even Heroes Die", and I think the same thing right now.**

**I'm sorry. I know this isn't accurate to say the least, but I'm not one to get caught up on facts much. This was written to be a never ending reminder. Thanks for reading. Please be sure to favorite, review and share.**

**As we say in Oklahoma,**

"**We Will Never Forget"**


End file.
